


Sick Days and Old Memories

by rivlee



Series: Live Fast, Die Old [15]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 20:11:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duro's only at the mountain house under the highest of protests.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Days and Old Memories

It felt fucking weird to be in the mountain house without Auctus there. Duro wrapped his arms around himself as he checked the old grandfather clock in the living room for the fourth time in three minutes. He still had another half-hour until Auctus came back from his meeting with Seppius; one of Auctus’ art patrons or some shit. Duro thought he was just a snotty-nosed kid with too much money and an obvious raging artist-hard-on, but hey, he’d sent a breakfast basket of muffins as large as Moose, so there was _some_ forgiveness there. 

He probably should’ve stayed in the city. The only reason he wasn’t at work was that Agron was being a germaphobic bastard. After one little bout of the flu, an upper-respiratory infection, a double ear infection, and an ER trip, and both Agron and Auctus were acting like Duro had the second-coming of the Black Death. He wasn’t allowed to even _cough_ unsupervised earlier in the week. Agron had flat-out _ordered_ Duro to take the week off and, after Duro tried to remote-access the inventory numbers to see what was selling and what they needed to re-order, his Wi-Fi privileges were revoked. Duro was then carried to the fucking car by his complete asshole of an older brother and forced to take time for healing and relaxation removed from the city. 

Duro didn’t do well with boredom. He didn’t have the energy to do much else but sit right now though. He’d have to occupy himself with anything near arm’s length. Auctus didn’t even have a television up here for worry about it messing with his creative vibes. He’d swiped Duro’s laptop and tablet before he left as well. He definitely had _not_ appreciated Duro’s cracked-voice yells of _Attica!_.

Moose was sleeping on Duro’s feet; his hot chocolate was cold; and he’d left his cell phone in the bedroom. It wasn’t worth the energy to try and get it. There had to be something to do, now that he was too awake to nap again. Duro looked up and reached for one of the sketchbooks on the bookshelf. If nothing else he could let himself marvel over the talented fucker he was lucky enough to love.

Duro randomly flipped it open and…oh. Photographs, old ones from the hairstyles, clothes, and the fact they were clearly film prints. Cheap Kodak paper from some drug store, Duro guessed. They all had white edges like a frame and a few had years written on them. One in particular caught his eye. It had _1997_ in it, written in Auctus’ distinctive loopy handwriting. It was just Auctus and Barca, and it made Duro smile. He’d long gotten over the worry that he was some sort of crappy replacement, but this photo more than anything proved that Auctus absolutely had a type.

Barca was in raggedy jeans, more holes than actual denim, a worn _Dead Kennedys_ t-shirt, with a red-flannel shirt wrapped around his waist. His braids were unbound and there was a massive amount of bike chain bracelets going up one on of his bare forearms. Pietros _needed_ to see this picture. Duro carefully worked it out of the page before turning on the light and taking a closer look at Auctus.

Auctus was nineteen here, with hair down just past his ears. He looked like a fucking boy band member. Baggy overalls covered a tight black sleeveless t-shirt. There was a noticeable hoop in the ear where he only wore a stud now. He also wore bracelets, though his were dark leather. He looked so young, so carefree, and holy fuck were his arms defined. This was Auctus in the time before he became a principal dancer. This was the young man who had no idea that in ten years he’d be forced out of the profession he loved and dedicated his life to because of an injury. It was the huge smile of a man who didn’t know his future had an Archimedes, a Moose, and a Duro. It wasn’t Auctus’ truly happy smile either. It was his polite one reserved for pictures being sent to family and old ladies that stopped him on the street. 

There were other things that caught Duro’s eye, like how Barca and Auctus weren’t touching, and it left him wondering if that was because of the era, the person who took the photo, or it was just a bad night. There was also the fact that right at that moment Duro-in-the-present wore the same band t-shirt as Barca-in-the-past. The only difference was Barca may have got his from someone who went to a legit Dead Kennedys show way-back when; Duro bought his brand new off the internet. It didn’t change the fact that Auctus _clearly_ had a taste for unkempt men. 

There would be more time to go through the other photo albums; he even planned to smuggle a few home if only for possible blackmail. Right now he needed to get his cell phone. Seriously, Pietros _had_ to see this. 

“Mission: Phone,” he announced to Moose. He tickled her belly with his toes until she moved. “Come on, be my partner in crime.”

Moose leapt off the couch and only slid a little bit when she landed. He really kind of adored his furry child. She ran back over to him and nipped at the hem of his jeans as he tried to push himself up. The world spun for a bit once he got to standing, but Moose allowed her head to be used as a hand-rest long enough for Duro to clear his own. 

He made it halfway to the staircase when things started to go swirly again. One of the best things about this house was that Auctus had workspaces in each room, which meant there was always somewhere to bed down. Duro opened one of the random doors and stumbled about inside until he found something that felt like a possible bed-like thing. It was soft and that was good enough.

 

*********************

“DURO!”

Auctus was yelling Duro’s name in the not-good-desperation way. Duro opened his eyes long enough to find Moose. She was sleeping with her nose tucked into Duro’s armpit. He tapped her head. “Bark before your Papa has a panic attack.”

Moose pawed him in the face as she turned around, but hey, she did bark.

Auctus slammed the door opened and flipped on the lights. It was too much for Duro, so he covered his eyes and tiredly joked, “I didn’t hear the olly olly oxen free.”

“Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker you’re going to be the fucking death of me,” Auctus said. His hands roamed over Duro’s face, before both his forehead and pulse were checked.

“I’m not dead,” Duro said. “The world just got fuzzy for a bit.”

“You didn’t fucking answer your phone,” Auctus said. “Agron called you, I called you, and Pietros called you. Your mailbox is full and you weren’t answering and fuck, you cannot do this to me again.”

Duro could see that Auctus was kind of freaking the fuck out, so he refrained from pointing out that if he had his laptop or tablet this all could have been avoided. Instead he pressed his clammy hands to Auctus’ warm skin and smiled when the curses of concern turned into yelps of annoyance.

“Oh, hi, Seppius,” Duro said when he spotted the stranger over Auctus’ shoulder. Seppius wasn’t looking at him when he spoke. His eyes kept switching between something on the wall and Duro. Duro wanted to see, but turning his head would be too much effort. “You two still got shit to discuss?”

“Seppius just wanted to make sure I got home okay,” Auctus said. “I kind of freaked the fuck out.”

“Hmm,” Duro said as he nuzzled Auctus’ ear. “I could never imagine that.” He got a swat to his ass for the trouble.

“You’re sick,” Auctus said. “You can’t even breathe through your nostrils in the morning. Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

Duro couldn’t really argue with that, but there were always other options. “I could watch you, though. We should do that. We should _totally_ do that.”

Auctus shook his head while Seppius cleared his throat in the background. “I should…leave,” Seppius said. “Everything seems to be going well here. Mr. Housiadas, I wish you luck on our new project. Mr. Frei, I hope your health improves.”

Duro wrinkled his nose at anyone calling him Mister anything. Hmm. Mister. Mr. Mister

“Kýrie, eléison, down the road that I must travel,” Duro started singing in his half-gone voice.

“Stop it,” Auctus said. He kissed Duro’s forehead before he helped him stand, and even then he kept his arms wrapped around Duro’s waist. “Sorry to end our meeting so soon, Seppius. I should get him back to bed. You know the way out.”

Seppius nodded. He took a moment to gesture to whatever was on the wall. “He’s good for your work.”

“Who is?” Duro asked. He tried to turn around, but Auctus kept him place. “What? I want to see.”

“Later, when you’re feeling up to it,” Auctus said. 

He started to move forward, and Duro didn’t have much of a choice but to follow. They both waved to Seppius and then all Duro could focus on was putting one foot in front of the other. It was the first time he spotted the stupid raised bed and thought of it with kindness. It still wasn’t _their_ bed, but it was soft, and was starting to smell like them, and Duro still wanted a different bed frame, but right now he wanted to sleep more.

“Call your brother,” Auctus said. He kissed the tip of Duro’s nose. “Call him, then sleep.”

“’Kay,” Duro agreed. He went to grab his phone when he remembered the photograph in his pocket. “Wait,” he croaked out.

Auctus stopped. “Yes?”

Duro waved the photograph with only a quarter of the sense of victory he felt upon its discovery. “You have a type. I have proof. Now send that to Pietros for me because I can’t move.”

Auctus grabbed the photograph and laughed. “I completely forgot Barca used to dress like that.”

Duro grinned. “He got all dignified on you. I promise that I will never wear a suit unless it’s required.” He tugged on Auctus’ arm. “Sit down. I demand, by the power of being the person who sleeps with you and helps wash your paint brushes, that you tell me stories. Such as, how you clearly have a thing for men who don’t believe in nice clothes. Follow that with your past as a boy band member alternate.”

Auctus gripped the back of Duro’s neck and smiled down at him; the real, happy one. “How about, _I_ call your brother, you go to sleep, and when you wake up I’ll tell you all those stories.”

“Deal only as long as you’re right here beside me, excepting any Moose-related causes,” Duro said.

Duro fell asleep to the fingers massaging his scalp and the soft noise of agreement Auctus made.


End file.
